


What Is Mine

by SweetnessandLight



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abduction, BAMF Sebastian Moran, Hurt Jim, Interrogation, Jim is a Little Shit, Jim loves his sniper, M/M, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft IS the British Government, Possessive Sebastian, Pre-Reichenbach, Protective Sebastian, Seb is actually kinda scary, mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 05:33:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9533915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetnessandLight/pseuds/SweetnessandLight
Summary: Mycroft Holmes has abducted and held Jim Moriarty for interrogation, little does he know he's just brought down the wrath of the second most dangerous man in London on himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Some descriptions of violence.

“Tell me where he is.”

The first man’s eyes bore into the second as his grip pinning him to the brick wall tightened, causing the second man to cringe in pain.

“I am not obliged to share any information that is under protection of the government with you.” He replied unconvincingly- the second man had worked with the British government for a long time and found himself having to repeat these words on an almost daily basis, but he did not have the same faith in them on this occasion.

The first man was a great deal larger than the second, and had trapped him in the small alley without much physical effort before demanding to be informed of his employer’s whereabouts, a great deal of threats and obscenities rolling off his tongue in the process.

Sebastian Moran had been tracking down government officials one by one for the past two days and extracting as much information as he could from each one, but was frustratingly no closer to finding who he was looking for. Most of the men he had interrogated had no information to give, and the few that did were entirely reluctant to give anything up- Sebastian had excessively injured most of them and left them in remote corners of London out of resentment. But this one was different- Seb knew he had information, he had done his research this time as a pose to hunting down people at random in a blind rage- and he knew that this one would crack.

He grabbed the man by both shoulders and shook him once, allowing his head to snap back and smack the wall behind him sharply.

The second man winced and cried out.

“I don’t know anything,” He insisted, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t believe you.” Sebastian replied.

“I don’t know.” The man was flailing now, his shoulders were slumping and his face was distorted in the pain his head was causing him, “I don’t know who you’re looking for.”

Sebastian’s patience ran dry and fury took over him.

“WHERE IS HE?” He roared, his face inches from the cowering man in front of him.

“Holmes!” The second man yelped, before dropping his eyes to the ground and slumping further, clearly disappointed in his own lack of resilience. The feeling didn’t last long when Sebastian seized his throat and slammed him back against the wall with his other hand in one swift movement.

“Which Holmes?” He demanded through gritted teeth.

The second man let out a small choking sound, causing Seb’s grip to loosen slightly- the last thing he needed was for this guy to pass out and waste even more of his time.

“Mycroft...took him. For...information.”

The Iceman. Sebastian felt the rage boiling up inside him again- he and his employer had always been aware of the older Holmes brother’s interest in the latter, but this was different. God knew where they had taken him, what they were doing to him, and the longer Sebastian spent trying to extract information from these stupid little men the worse it got.

Frustrated, he squeezed the man’s neck again, his bicep contracting as the man began to gurgle.

“Where have they taken him?”

The man hesitated. Sebastian gave him a blow to the stomach with his free fist and shouted again.

“ANSWER ME!”

The man took a few deep breaths to recover the air that had been knocked out of him by the punch and recited an address.

Seb made a mental note of it and tossed the man to the ground, pulled his hood back up and walked back out into the rainy street.

                     ***

The door creaked slightly as the tall man walked into the room. There was a mirror on the opposite wall and a table in the centre- Mycroft Holmes straightened his suit jacket and sat down in the chair on his side of the table, opposite the dark shape slouching in the other chair.

“Here I am.” Mycroft stated.

The man on the other side of the table leant forward slightly, a harsh white light being thrown onto his face. He looked awful- there was a sheen of sweat over his face, dark, bruise-like shadows framing his black eyes and his hair was a tangled mess, sticking up in every direction. Despite his defeated appearance, the man didn’t look in the least sorry for himself- his eyes were lit up with excitement and there was a satisfied smirk playing around his lips.

“Mr Holmes.” He smiled widely now.

“Mr Moriarty.” Mycroft replied courteously. “My men tell me you’ve been quite the hard nut to crack- in fact despite all their efforts they’ve got nothing out of you at all. Not even a whimper.”

Moriarty crossed his arms, shrugged his shoulders and continued to smile.

“You’re an intelligent man, Mycroft. Not quite your brother but...” He hesitated, eyes glinting, “Who is?”

Mycroft looked at him in distaste.

“My point is,” Moriarty continued, “Did you really think physical violence would get to me? I’m hurt, I’m offended.”

He pulled a mocking sad face.

Mycroft could feel himself growing annoyed, but took a deep breath and spoke.

“Clearly someone thinks that it would. Your...henchman- Moran is it? He’s been causing quite the hullabaloo amongst my men.”

The smirk on Moriarty’s face faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered his expression.

Mycroft did not miss this.

“Oh, hit a nerve have we?” It was his turn to smile now.

“Bless you, Mr Holmes. Thinking it would that easy. But Moran is irrelevant in this.” Moriarty replied, his voice hardening slightly on the last sentence.

“Maybe not quite as irrelevant as you would have us believe, James.” Mycroft probed, referring to the man by his forename for the first time just to add insult to injury.

Moriarty leant forward, resting his crossed arms on the table between them.

“Call me Jim, I insist. Aaannnd okay maybe I’ll give you that one; he is a vital part of my network after all.” Jim stated, clearly changing his tactic,

“Colonel Sebastian Moran; the ghost assassin, shadow in the night, and... what was the other one? I don’t remember, he’s somewhat an urban legend amongst the criminal classes, almost as famous as me.”

Moriarty smiled, fluttering his eyelashes.

“You certainly speak very highly of this man, it almost seems as though the infamous Jim Moriarty has a weakness in him.” Mycroft was in his element now.

“Weakness?” Jim looked as though he was trying not to laugh. “Tell me, how many of your men has he taken out in the past two days looking for me?”

Mycroft pursed his lips.

“Two have died from their wounds in hospital, the other four were released with less grievous injuries.”

Moriarty sniggered loudly at this.

“So in the time it has taken you to achieve, let me see, _nothing,_ Moran has put 6 of your men out of action, two of them permanently. And I’m the one with the weakness in my network? You’re adorable. I see where Sherlock gets it from.”

The taller man scowled.

“Enough chit chat.” He said, plastering an emotionless smile onto his face, “Let’s get down to business.”

Jim cocked his head to one side.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

                   ***

The building was tall, _seven stories,_ Seb noticed at a glance; it was relatively inconspicuous, not like the other government buildings he had paid visits to in the past. To the untrained eye it could easily pass an another office block.

He scanned the front entrance as he strolled past the first time, hood down, hands in his pockets. There were no guards on the outside, but he suspected there was a heavy line of security within. There was a small gap between the left side of the building and the one next to it, which he decided was his best shot at getting into a back or side entrance.

He had his work backpack slung over one shoulder, holding some backup weaponry, and his favourite handgun concealed underneath his jacket. He hadn’t bothered bringing his rifle; he doubted there would be need for it in this kind of operation and the weight would only slow him down.

He slipped into the alleyway when the street was empty, smirking humourlessly as he was indeed faced with a narrow door with a rusty padlock. It took him all but ninety seconds to break the padlock and push the door open, checking his surroundings before moving silently down a narrow corridor. He mentally mapped out the ground floor, making notes of where the security guards were posted and all possible escape routes.

He froze as he heard voices drifting down the corridor towards him, and stepped behind an ajar fire door silently.

“-he’s actually here?”

“Oh yeah, fifth floor. Holmes took him in a couple of days ago, David’s been guarding the cell, he says they’ve been sending people in twice a day to beat the shit out of him. Don’t seem to be getting anywhere thou-”

He was cut off as Sebastian slammed against him, knocking him to the ground before seizing the second man by the throat, pressing his gun into his forehead.

“Beat the shit out of him, do they? You’re going to wish you’d never fucking said that.” He snarled, the edges of his vision clouded by red.

The man spluttered, arms flailing around as he regained his balance.

“Hey, what-“ The other man began to stand before Seb aimed the gun at him, eyes still on the one he was holding.

“Shut up. You’re going to tell me _exactly_ where they’re keeping Moriarty, and don’t bother lying, it wont be worth it.”

“The fifth floor!” The man on the floor barked, holding his hand up as if that was going to help him.

“Where. On. The. Fifth. Floor.” Sebastian growled the words in monotone.

“We don’t know, that’s all we know,” Whimpered the second man, “It’s guarded, you won’t get in there.”

“Oh yeah?” Seb let him go, allowing him to stagger a few steps backwards.

“You two are going to escort me there, if anyone asks, I’ve been cleared by security. Understand? Or do I have to explain that again?”

The two men nodded, the second one getting to his feet and massaging the arm Sebastian had collided with.

Seb pocketed his gun and readjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, gesturing for the men to start walking.

                    ***

“Five.” Jim interrupted him to state the number, glancing at the door of the cell as he did so.

Mycroft paused in what he was saying, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry?”

Moriarty smirked, his black eyes glinting with amusement at a joke Mycroft wasn’t in on.

 _Make allowances,_ he told himself, _the man is unstable._

“...as I was saying-“ He made to continue before Jim interrupted him for the second time.

“Four.”

 _Counting down._ Mycroft thought, _to what?_

“What exactly are you referring to, James?” He asked, unimpressed.

Moriarty shrugged nonchalantly, before his eyes flickered to the door once again.

“Three.”

Mycroft picked up the radio which lay on the table, holding down the button on the left has he brought it to his mouth.

“Can I have a security update, please?” He kept his eyes on Jim, who was stretching his arms up above his head.

“Two.”

When there was no response, Mycroft tried again.

“Hello? I need a security update now please, if I have to come out there I’ll see to it your career suffers for it.”

He released the button, concern growing as he heard a dull thudding sound from outside the door. He looked around at it and then back to Moriarty.

Jim rolled his head around until his neck clicked, eyes burning into Mycroft’s, before he licked his lips and whispered,

“ _One.”_

There was a deafening crash from behind him, and Mycroft sprung out of his seat and backed into the far corner of the room as the door was thrown open. He saw the gun before he saw the man, tall and imposing, _military,_ he thought to himself.

The man entered the room in one stride, aiming the gun at Mycroft immediately, glancing over his shoulder to Jim to ask,

“You alright?”

_Moran._

“Mr Moran I assume-“ He made to address him before the man cut him off,

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

Jim was grinning a little manically, clearly delighted with the events unfolding in front of his eyes.

“I am now.” He leant forward on the table and put his head in his hands.

Moran retuned his gaze to Mycroft. He towered over him, broad shouldered and vastly muscular, with the cold, unwavering stare of a man with a good aim. Mycroft abandoned all attempts to work out an escape plan; there was no way of physically overpowering this man, he just had to hope Jim would call off his guard dog. At the mercy of Moriarty was not a position he revelled in being in.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” He took a step closer, gripping the gun tightly as he pressed it into the skin of Mycroft’s neck.

“Eeaaasy, Tiger.” Jim stood up, strolling around the table to stand beside him, placing a finger on his gun arm and pressing down.

Moran allowed it to be lowered, eyes still fixed on Mycroft, who was pressed as far as physically possible into the corner of the room.

“You have my gratitude.” He addressed Jim as his henchman backed off,

“I take it you’ll be leaving now?”

“I will indeed.” Jim smiled.

“Well.” Mycroft adjusted his posture, trying to claw back the remaining dignity that was left to him,

“Keep in touch, both of you.” He threw Moran a distasteful glance.

Jim turned to leave, Moran shadowing him protectively as he did so.

“You’ll be hearing from me, Mycroft Holmes.” He called as he walked out of the door easily, strolling out of Mycroft's clutches with minimal effort.

“I sincerely hope not.” Mycroft muttered as he was left alone in the room, table pushed up against one wall and his chair overturned on the floor, cursing himself for his foolishness.

 _You were warned. You were warned about Moran and you didn’t listen,_ he thought bitterly.

                     ***

“They hurt you.” He stated, pressing his face into his employer’s neck.

“It’s just a body, Sebastian. A collection of dust.” Jim's voice had a preoccupied tone; bored. 

“Don’t.” Seb frowned, “No one’s going to fucking touch you ever again. No one's to touch what is mine.”

Jim looked at him then, a look saved only for him when they were alone. There was no motive in it, no malice, just quiet observation. 

There was a sadness in his eyes that set Sebastian's teeth on edge. 

"I'm not made of glass, silly. I'm not going to break." He rolled his eyes and the look of melancholy was gone.

"I know," Seb agreed solemnly, "I'll made damn fucking sure of it." 

 


End file.
